Weeks ago I noticed complacency surfacing. I know when it’s near because my mind entertains the phrase, Is this it? There must be more.
Do you ever wonder the same?
By mistake I started praying, God, help me refocus. Help me live like today is my last. Help me like, really really live. With joy and love and a cut-through-the-fat-peace only You offer.
Thursday night I had a dream. A beyond goofy dream. My filter was down, and I was fully just living and enjoying the moment. Ya know, music on. Dorky shimmying in front of a room of strangers. Don’t think for one second it was pretty dancing. No, this was just letting-it-all-out, feeling-the-music, dance-party-dancing. And in my dream, I remember thinking, I wanna live like this. More.
Pay attention to those dreams, friends. They may be talking to you.
Not even 24 hours later, Friday night invited Tanner’s football game. It was a crisp evening with puffy clouds showing off their unicorn and hippo shapes, when my phone rang with the results of the CAT scan.
There’s a mass in your bladder, came a kind voice. It could be a blood clot, a cyst, or cancer. We’ll call next week to set up an appointment with a specialist.
I’m sorry, what? This was not the way this is supposed to go. I wanted a FUN, CHEERY CONTAGIOUS, LIVE LIFE AWAKENING. Not this.
But there it was.
Here’s the invitation.
I tell you not to raise panic or worry, ‘cuz I certainly am not. I share this because I desperately need to know there are others out there who want to see faith collide with real life. Like how genuine is God in cancer and affairs and dark seasons? How does faith unfold in real time? When there is no bow or grand story yet? In the unknown and unplanned? How are we craning to choose His goodness even when we can’t see past the first step?
My friend Stacie says if she blogged it would be called In the Middle and I couldn’t agree more. The first title for Choosing Real was actually called Cinnamonroll Faith: An Invitation to follow Jesus INTO THE MIDDLE OF REAL LIFE.
So I’m choosing to walk into the middle of this. Whether it be nothing or cancer or something else. And for me, writing is how I best process and so write I will. Hopefully not about wigs, though. That will just really suck.
And I feel different. A familiar focus propels me forward. I feel alive. I feel unafraid. I feel inspired to lavish love and see the best in everyone and say what I need to say and not let toxic people affect me and just freaking dance. Maybe I’ll sign up for a hip-hop class. Who’s in?
There’s a famous question: How would you live if you were unafraid? If today was your last?
Maybe we get hard calls on Friday nights not to raise worry but to awaken us to really live. Today.